she is bright lights and cityscapes
by coffeeisinmyblood
Summary: because sometimes one party is all it takes to completely change your life. faberry. loosely based on the song 'bright lights and cityscapes' by Sara Barreilles. *slow updates*
1. Chapter 1

"_Why do you let him do that to you?"_

It's true. I let him get away with so much. You may ask what is going on, or why I am hiding in a deserted (or so I had thought) bathroom on valentines day. I can tell you that it isn't because I am lonely - I'm not crying because I have no boyfriend, or because I have no valentines. I have a few. Although, one of them _is _'Jewfro', and I'm not sure he counts. I'm not going to blame allergies, as that would be lying, which I have always prided myself in not doing. I suppose I should know by now that bathrooms aren't the best place to hide; always the first place people will look.

"_What else am I supposed to do?"_

It's true. I never wanted to be the clingy, anxious to please, eager to forgive-and-forget kind of girlfriend, but spending time in this hell-hole that I am forced to call home has made me forget about the rules of affection. Small shows of kindness, which others may regard as a simple courtesy, are enough to make me go weak at the knees. The amount of hatred and bullying that I have been subjected to on a near-daily basis has made me cling to any semblance to romance in my vicinity.

I crave it.

"_Dump him. God, Rach, he doesn't deserve someone like you."_

What is that supposed to mean?

"_Why would I do that? He's the only one who loves me, the only one who-"_

It's true. He's the only one who has ever appeared to care for me. He may not show it in public. He doesn't stand up for me when I am being hurt, but he will be there for me afterwards. He'll give me a box of chocolates- a nice gesture, although I can't eat them as he has never bought vegan friendly- and he'll wrap me up in his arms and tell me that he's sorry.

"_Who loves you? He wouldn't do this to you if he _loved_ you."_

Maybe that's true too.

"_He just-"_

"_If he loved you then he would do _everything_ he could to protect you. He would stand up to the others for you. If he loved you, he wouldn't let you cry. He wouldn't kiss other people. He would buy you chocolates that vegans could eat, and he would take you on dates in public. If he loved you, he would want to be with you all the time, he wouldn't get annoyed at you when you ramble, and he wouldn't blow you off to spend time with his friends. _You_ should be his number one priority. Why can't you see that you are worth so much more than he could ever give you. He's just using you."_

I know _that's_ true, and I suppose that's what finally broke me.

I should leave him, I understand that. I think I always did, but I've been too afraid to face them on my own. I stayed with him because he could be my buffer, I could hold on tight to him and pretend everything was alright, that I wasn't drowning. I realise now that I was a fool. The waters had risen above me as I hid in his bubble, but now it has burst and the water is seeping in, and I ask myself if this is all there was ever going to be for me. Was this how I was always going to end up?

Maybe it's stupid, but I've always held a candle to the idea that I could have a happy ending, that I would find my prince and he would shelter me from all that could harm me, and that I would finally be alright in his arms. I would be _safe_. Perhaps I should have been more focused on saving myself, not waiting for the right person to swoop in and save me.

And yet here I am in a bathroom, as teenagers party on obliviously outside the locked wooden door, desperately holding on to someone as they tell me that my boyfriend doesn't love me. Maybe he never did.

And now, I guess that's true too.

* * *

_**Saturday, the morning after the party**_

Soft.

Whatever I am lying on is incredibly soft. It envelops my small form, comforting me, gently nudging me into the land of consciousness.

It's very bright too.

My eyelids are heavy as I lift them, though immediately I realise that this action was a mistake. Sunlight burns my eyes through the miniscule opening, sending a stinging pain through me. My body reacts before my brain does- a good thing, as my head is pounding and I don't want to know how badly that has affected my thought processes- and clamps my eyes closed again. This doesn't prevent searing spots and streaks to appear before me.

It's pretty warm as well, in fact, the heat is almost stifling.

However, the warmth isn't a full one, as it's concentrated on various areas of my body. The furnace like heat is most readily present along my back. It spreads out along my spine and gently dips behind my legs. A branch is hooked around my midsection, holding me close to the source. Hot puffs of air hit the back of my neck at regular intervals, preventing my hair from settling.

Wait.

I attempt to open my eyes again. _Nope_. I almost gasp in real pain as the white hot light scalds my eyes. Definitely not doing that again.

Deciding I need a new approach I hesitantly flex the fingers on my hand. I slowly reposition my hand from beneath my head to in front of my eyes, providing me with some much needed shelter from the burning morning light.

_Better._

Warily, I try for third time lucky. Success. With my hand shielding my eyes from the vicious morning light, I finally catch a glimpse of my surroundings.

I am in a bed. A large one, which accounts for the softness I had felt. The brightness is obviously because of the sun, which has risen high in the sky- based on what shadows I can see- meaning it is late morning, perhaps even early afternoon. If I wish to see what the warmth is, I find that I must turn myself around. Gingerly, I lift the arm around my waist, noting that it is most definitely female.

Turning myself around, I come face to face with a sleeping-

_What?!_

No.

No _way_.

This is a dream, it has to be, because there is no other way that it could be possible for me to be practically _spooning_ with a sleeping Quinn Fabray.

Said girl grumbles in her sleep, her arm unconsciously tightening around my waist, pulling me in closer to her. My head collides with her protruding collarbone, which does nothing to help with my post-alcohol migraine.

I try to push myself away from the slumbering blonde, but Sue has worked her hard and she is much stronger than I am - even in her sleep - and I find that I am unable to get away from her.

"No." She murmurs, her nose nuzzling against my hair. "Stay. 'M comfy." I can't tell if she is awake or asleep as she hums these words above me. _Around_ me. I hadn't realised how intertwined our bodies were.

I exhale softly.

The blonde is exuding warmth, which is a stark contrast to her usual cold persona, and this heat makes me feel calmer- safer- than I have ever felt in anyone else's arms. She must have been very drunk to go to bed with me, I think.

I don't want to stay around because I'm afraid that once she wakes up, she will realise the intimate position we are in, and freak out. Or get angry. Or threaten me.

Come to think of it, why am _I _not freaking out? Here I am, held captive in the arms of someone who has gone out of their way to torture and bully me, and I'm worried about _her _reaction.

_God_, this is probably all some plot to make me believe that they are actually being nicer to me. That I might actually be safe.

I can't believe I _fell_ for it. I'm so _stupid. _

Decidedly, I unwrap the blonde's arms from around my waist and slide out of the bed. My bare feet collide with the cold, harsh floorboards, prompting a soft hiss to escape my lips.

Now, where are my shoes?

* * *

Upon my return home, I am met with questioning glances from my dad, who meets me in the hallway with his arms folded and his dark eyebrows bunched together over his round glasses.

"Where have you been?" The question is soft, which contrasts with his harsh posture.

"I stayed over at Kurt's house." He raises a heavy brow. "It was late and I didn't want to wake you."

He doesn't believe me. I know that. If I had been trying to convince daddy, then I would have had to have been more convincing, but for dad, it's enough. Sometimes I think he wants me to lie to him, so that I can be a normal teenager. He wants me to have more friends, to enjoy myself more, and I know that he will cover for me with daddy.

Silently, I pass him and head up for my room, intent on finishing the work I had been set to do over the weekend.

As I settle down on my bed, I carefully rethink the events that led up to my sharing a bed with the supposed _ice queen_, my own personal tormenter. I remember-

Oh.

Oh no.

I didn't-

I broke up with Finn, didn't I?

* * *

******This is my first ever fanfic, and I'm not sure how I want to play it, so lets just sit back, strap in, and see where the ride takes us.**

******Feel free to leave me suggestions/prompts for new chapters or seperate oneshots you may want :3**

******Disclaimer: I don't own glee etc**

**Enjoy -S**


	2. Chapter 2

It's the first day of summer, and already I miss school.

I don't miss the rumours and the gossiping, and I definitely don't miss the daily slushies or the constant mockery inflicted upon me by my peers. I just miss the feeling that I wasn't completely alone. I miss being surrounded by people.

I made the decision to stay away from Quinn and the others, as I figured solitude would be the best way forwards for me. Finn had probably already moved back to the blonde, and I couldn't bear to face my friends, where the couple would undoubtedly be. The isolation was difficult because it wasn't. Prior to my dating Finn, I had spent the majority of my time alone, singing, taking acting or dancing classes, and in general just trying to improve my already well-honed talents. However, dating Finn had given me a glimpse of popularity. It wasn't in the conventional sense- of course- as many people still disliked me, but Finn offered me a sense of establishment within the ranks of school, and he made me feel like less of an outsider.

I knew from the very beginning that the pseudo-popularity that I was experiencing wasn't built to last, as the foundations of Finn and I's relationship was naturally unsteady (the relationship had blossomed out of him cheating on his _then_ girlfriend). His apathy to my interests and feelings, my constant fantasising of him becoming someone better, and the fact that he refused to protect me from the bulk of the bullying that I was subjected to on a near daily basis meant that we were never really in it for the long run. Looking back at the relationship now, I realise how blinded I was by my perfect vision of him, how oblivious I was to his failings. I know now that I am better off without him- that he never really met the image of perfection that I had always imagined him to be- but, I can't help but miss the feeling of companionship he gave me.

Nevertheless, life must go on, and though the loss of him has given me extra friction to compete against, I must continue on my journey, as my happiness and future success shouldn't be embezzled by a dopey teenage giant. I suppose this will all make for good reading when my memoirs come out. Perhaps I should jot down my feelings for future reference, so that when I sit down to write my autobiography, I will at least have a starting point for me to expand upon. I find that the journey of self-discovery is long and tedious, and actually rather exhausting, which is why I have decided that I need some fresh air.

Running has always been a favourite activity of mine; besides the _obvious_ examples that make me such an asset to my many artistic endeavours.

I love the feeling of air whipping past me. I love to feel the burn in my aching muscles as I push myself to my limits relentlessly. I like to imagine a race in my mind, which pits me against my trials and tribulations. I like how freeing it is, how- should I choose to- I could run far away from Lima, and it's constant oppression.

What I don't like, however, is when my running is interrupted by beautiful blondes with perfect physiques. Blondes whom I have been aiming to avoid.

"Berry!" She calls, her voice carrying in the cool air, bringing with it a sense of trepidation which rolls over me, shrouding me. I hear feet slam rhythmically into the ground behind me, the impacts getting nearer to me as she attempts to reach me. "Wait up."

I can't outrun her. Sue has been incessant in her training, and I _know_ that her fitness is far superior to mine. What I _don't_ know, is why she seems so intent upon catching up with me. Reluctantly, I slow my pace, giving her a better chance of meeting me. I feel more than see her level with me, her presence is thick in the silence.

I glance to my left.

She is clad in tight, black running shorts and a gray t-shirt. The shirt is emblazoned with the word 'Cheerios', the shorts have the WMHS logo printed near the bottom. Her chest is heaving slightly from the exertion of catching up with me, but her breath is miraculously coming out is soft, controlled breaths.

Finally looking up at her face, I meet her eyes, noting some foreign emotion swirling in their hazel depths. The look is gone merely a second later, as the corner of her mouth lifts up, forming a sort of barely-there smile.

"You're pretty fast, you know." She says, as more of a statement than a question, her eyes now sparkling with mirth. I nod, turning my head forwards to continue my run. As I said, I'm not sure why Quinn would want to catch up with me, but I will certainly not indulge with her. I want no part in her mind games. "Are you okay? I heard about what happened with-"

"Quinn." I snap, my tone icy, and sounding strange to my own ears. "I know you don't _really_ care. Do us both a favour and save whatever humiliating schemes you have for school." With these words, I speed up, hoping that she understand that I don't want to talk to her.

"Berry, that's not what this is." She replies, reaching me again with ease.

"Quinn, I just want to run. Can't you find someone else to provoke?" I ask, exasperated.

"Let me run with you." She demands, softly. It's phrased in a way that makes it sound- almost- like a question.

"Why, so you can bully me some more?" I jab. "Want to push me over too?"

"No." Her tone sounds defeated. Maybe even slightly remorseful, but I know that she is the queen of false pretences and of hurting me, so I know better than to believe the act. "I just want to run."

Sighing, I continue to run. I can feel the muscles in my legs strain as I push forwards, and the muscles in my back are taut, prepared to carry out evasive manoeuvres should Quinn turn sour. Eventually we reach a fork in the park, where one veers off out of the park and towards my house.

"Don't worry, Quinn. I'm done. The park is yours." I state, turning away from her and moving away from her, fleeing to the safety of my home.

"Bye Rach." She calls out softly, and I almost fall over in shock.

She called me Rach? I refuse to stop and look back at her, repeating a mantra of '_it's all an act, don't fall for in_' in my head as I race along the streets that are basked in the soft glow of the setting sun.

When I reach my house, I immediately head upstairs to my room, wanting to shower. _Needing_ to wash away the weird interaction with Quinn. As I stand under the hot, heavy spray of water, I realise that not once in the conversation had the blonde used one of the many derogatory nicknames she had for me. She just called me 'Berry'. I suppose that _is_ an improvement, since it is actually my name.

And what was with the whole 'Rach' thing? If she's trying to repent for her sins then it's all a bit too little, too late, as far as I'm concerned. Three years she's tortured me. I suppose 'torture' is a bit of an exaggeration, perhaps I should say that she has _tormented _me for the majority of my stay in high school.

The bullying, however, never usually extends past the school semester, so it is puzzling that she should reach out- to bully, or something else- at this time.

Maybe I should call Kurt, he should know what's going on.

'Gay-intuition' and all that.

* * *

"Hubris." Kurt stated matter-of-factly.

"Wh- How- What does that even mean?" I reply, stuttering slightly, and inwardly cursing myself for choosing to call Kurt about this.

_Of course_ he would say something exuberant that holds no real meaning towards my issues. He probably wasn't even listening. He'll probably sprout some gay rights and call it Karma. I don't know why I even-

"Pride before a fall." He replies in a bored, monotonous voice.

"And that's supposed to help how?"

"She's going to pretend to be your friend, so that it hurts even more when she bullies you at school." He explains, and I pause, considering his words.

"That's-"

"Genius? I know." He interrupts, and I can practically _hear_ his self-satisfied smirk through the phone. "Sometimes I think you underestimate my abilities." He adds with a melodramatic sigh tagged on to the end.

"Actually I was going to say _plausible_, but I'll let you have this one, since it actually makes sense for once." He snorts and I allow myself a small chuckle. "Anyway, thanks Kurt, but I'm going to-"

"Oh no lady, _you_ _and I_ are going to have a chat." I gulp. "A heart to heart."

He didn't see did he? How am I supposed to explain that to him? I was drunk. Yeah, that's it. Sober Rachel can't be held accountable for Drunk Rachel's actions, so I'm in the clear.

"...so I'm on my way over." Oh, he was still talking, and I was off having a little inner monologue. Oops.

"What?"

"See you in a few, Rachie."

Kurt stayed true to his word, and not even 10 minutes later, he was knocking daintily on my front door. Opening it to let him in, I noted the sly smirk adorning his face, and I feel the worry settle over me almost instantaneously.

"So, Rach, imagine my surprise, when my drunk self stumbles into a bedroom, only to find it occupied by a short, jewish brunette and a certain blonde cheerleader we know, who has a penchant for inflicting pain on said brunette." He rattles off, strutting past me to seat himself on the sofa in the living room. Gesturing towards the seat next to him, he adds. "Oh, by all means, take a seat. Explain."

I clear my throat slightly, before padding forwards across the carpet and allowing myself to fall onto the empty space beside him.

"So I was drunk."

"You must have been."

"Yes, I was extremely intoxicated, okay?"

"Thrilled."

"I had just broken up with Finn, and she found me in the bedroom, crying." Kurts gaze become concerned, and he shifts closer to me, draping his arm across my shoulders. "It's- I mean, I _am_ okay, Kurt. I _had to_ break up with him. We just weren't working, so I'm not upset about _that_." He nods, squeezing my shoulders, and I lean into him.

I explain to him about how she had found me, sobbing my eyes out in the bed. I tell him about how she wrapped me up in her arms and held me until I stopped crying. I repeat the words she said to me, how I deserved better than him, how I shouldn't let him treat me like that. I describe how the words made me feel stronger then I have in a while now, how she helped me take the first step in getting over him.

He's proud of me, I can tell. I know that I have spent the majority of our time in high school pining after his step-brother. I know that he is glad that I can finally see what has been in front of me the entire time.

I spent so long painting Finn into the image of the perfect boyfriend. I made it seem as though he could do no wrong. As though, despite all of his misgivings, he was the best thing out there for me. Quinn's words, however, have empowered me. I don't need to _settle_ for Finn. He doesn't belong on the pedestal that I have put him on.

"Sweetheart, I'm happy for you." He tells me, and I know that he means it. His words are full of genuine warmth, and this rolls over me, comforting me as I lean into his one-armed embrace. "I think Quinn's angle makes a lot more sense now." I tilt my head questioningly towards him, asking for an explanation. A request he promptly denies. "When I am sure of it, I will tell you." He tells me resolutely.

I nod, accepting his embrace for now.

"Okay, Kurt."

"_Anyway_," He begins, drawing out the vowels in the word as he unwraps his arm from me. "You know what this means, right?"

Oh no.

"Celebratory shopping trip!" He squeals, clapping his hands together and laughing at the look of horror that quickly spreads across my face. "Oh this is going to be so much _fun_!"

Oh _please_ no.

* * *

**Hi again. So I guess this update actually answers the review asking if i _was_ going to update.**

**I have a question for you: would you rather I did longer chapters (3000+ words), but with super long update times, or slightly shorter (around 2000 words) but with only moderately long waiting periods?**

**Reminder: I don't own glee. If I did, faberry would have been canon**

**Thats a wrap for chapter 2. Please leave reviews, as they help me improve etc :3 See you at some point in the future!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Rachel? Are you with me?"

Blinking, my eyes finally refocus on the scene playing out in front of me. Kurt is holding up a dress for me to look at. It's certainly not something that I would have picked out for myself, but it _is _nice nonetheless; the top half is white with navy blue stripes (or maybe navy blue with white stripes, who knows?), and the bottom half- which is separated by a brown belt- is a lighter blue, pleated skirt. It's definitely aesthetically pleasing, which I relay to him.

Nodding to himself, he drapes the dress over his arm, and continues to rifle through the clothing racks in the store.

Kurt had already advised (forced) me to buy a pair of jeans, shorts, a couple of skirts, and an assortment of shirts, all of which were currently meticulously folded away in the multiple bags that are currently dangling from my arms.

"Are you going to help me look," He begins, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes. "Or are you going to look yourself as well?"

I sigh. I was never very good at clothes shopping. I have never had the kind of friends who I would go with, in fact, I have never really had friends. Despite popular stereotypes, my fathers weren't much of a help either, as they often went with the clothes that would cover the largest area of myself. This had resulted in me choosing the things that were cheapest and most comfortable, and since I was proud of my legs, which have been honed through years of advanced dance classes, I showed them off a lot by wearing short skirts.

"Okay, try these two on." He said, relieving me of my luggage, and thrusting the dress and a cream knitted cardigan into my arms instead. Smiling slightly, I nod, and retreat into the changing rooms, leaving Kurt in the store- though I doubt he cared much, since he was texting furiously on his phone (something he had been doing throughout our 'little' shopping excursion).

In the changing room, I quickly took off my current attire and slipped into the dress. It fitted me well (Kurt had obviously paid attention to my clothing size), and the blue was actually a good colour on me, it would seem. Smoothing out the skirt, I pried the door open and stepped out of the room, intending on looking at myself in the large floor-to-ceiling mirror on the wall outside. My timing, however, could not have been worse.

Immediately upon leaving the confines of the changing room, a warm body collided with me, causing me to let out a sharp gasp of pain as I was pushed backwards into the wall, and resulting in the other letting loose a string of enraged Spanish.

As I opened my eyes (which had been snapped shut upon impact), I was met with an increasingly familiar, dark and calculating gaze.

"RuPaul," She growled maliciously. "I think you're in the wrong-" Suddenly, she stopped.

She dragged her gaze from my face, down to my toes, and back up again, lingering slightly at my chest. Slowly, she drew her tongue across her bottom lip, and, as she once again met my gaze, her lips were quirked up into a sly grin, and there was an odd _sparkle_ of sorts in her eyes.

"Well, Berry, who would've though you hid all of _that_," She paused again, eyes dropping to my chest, _again_. "Under those ugly ass sweaters."

Suddenly, Brittany appeared from the doorway behind Santana.

"Sannie, what do you think of-" She paused, looking me up and down in much the same way as Santana had a second ago. "Rachie, you look _hot_." She stated, grinning at me as I felt my cheeks begin to heat up. "Wait, are you here _alone_?" She asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied me, the question clearly an innocent one, unlike the way it would have been phrased if it had been the girl's latina counterpart who had been asking.

"Um, n-no. I'm here with-"

"You should come hang out with us." She beams at me, ignoring my statement. "You look hot," She reiterates. "And _we're_ hot, so we can hang out now, right?" She says, phrasing it as a question when she turns to Santana looking for confirmation. The girl in question simply shrugs, her eyes still fixed hungrily on my torso.

I shift uncomfortably on my feet, not sure what to make up this interaction.

"Actually, Brittany, I'm here with Kurt." She looks around, as if expecting him to be around in the changing rooms somewhere. "He's outside." I add, smiling at the blonde girls antics.

"Guys, what are you-" My shoulders stiffen as another- _painfully_ familiar- voice is added to the conversation.

Looking up, I am met with Quinn's dark gaze.

Her Hazel eyes, which are usually sharp and threatening, are now unfocused and her consistently pale cheeks are flushed pink, a blush that spreads down her neck and disappears beneath the collar of her shirt. Her long eyelashes flutter as she blinks slowly, taking me in.

Okay, what is it with these cheerleaders today?

"Hey Quinn, Rachel looks hot, doesn't she." Brittany says, breaking the slightly tense atmosphere that had materialised after Quinn's arrival. Santana smirks, turning her head slightly to look at the head cheerleader, before chuckling darkly.

"I think Q knows, B."

What is _that _supposed to mean?

"Listen, Berry." Santana begins, her tone slightly more serious. "There's a party on friday night, you should come."

A party?

"Yeah, you should!" Brittany exclaims excitably.

"Just wear something less _argyle_, and more like _that_." Santana adds

"I've never-" I begin, but Brittany cuts me off again, clapping her hands together gleefully.

"Don't worry Rachie, we'll look after you."

"But how am I supposed to-" I try again, but I am cut off. _Again_.

Santana thrusts her phone in my direction.

"Give me your number, Berry. We'll text you details, 'kay?" I quickly type my phone number in, and save it under 'Rachel' before handing the phone back to the Latina.

Quinn is still staring at me.

"I think I'm going to get this." Brittany states, before reaching forwards and hugging me. "Bye Rachie, see you on friday!"

I nod and watch as the three of them retreat back into their respective changing rooms.

What the hell just happened?

Regardless, I think I _am_ going to buy this dress.

* * *

When I tell Kurt what had happened, he just smirks at me, which is odd, as Kurt _never_ smirks.

The words 'I told you the makeover would work' are his only response. I point out that that's what he had said last time as well, and that hadn't turned out too well, but he simply waves me off.

"I don't know if I should go." I confide in him, my tone soft with worry.

"Nonsense." He replies, confused as to why I would suggest such a thing. "Why wouldn't you go?" He asked.

Does he want the full answer, or just the cliff notes?

Firstly, I have been bullied by these girls and probably by everyone that will be attending the party for almost the entirety of my stay in high school so far. Surely, it would be near suicidal of me to go and meet with them alone in their 'natural habitat', so to speak.

Secondly, I have only been drunk _once _in my life, and that ended up with me breaking up with my (admittedly terrible) boyfriend and falling into bed with the schools HBIC, my own personal tormenter.

Thirdly, Noah will be at said party, and there's no telling what may happen when you mix him and alcohol.

Fourthly-

"Rachel." Kurt prompts, clicking his fingers in front of my face, and I realise that I have yet to answer him.

(I go with the cliff notes)

"Loosen up, Rach. They didn't invite you to the party to humiliate you." He says, trying (pretty unsuccessfully) to make me feel better about the situation.

We spend some more time talking about it, but he leaves shortly after lunch, leaving me home alone with the dilemma still playing heavily on my mind.

Turning over to look at my phone, I find that I have a few new messages from some unknown numbers.

I unlock my phone to check them.

**Berry, it's Santana. Party's on Friday night at Pucks**

**I don't know what time though. **

**And I gave B and Q your number**

I send off a thanks for the invite, and add that I don't mind her handing out my number to Brittany and Quinn, but that I would prefer it if she didn't give it out to anyone else.

**Yeah, okay. **Is the only further reply I receive.

I save the number in my phone and go back to my inbox to check the other messages, which are presumably from the two blondes.

**Rachel, it's Quinn. Santana gave me your number, you should save mine.**

I do as she says and save the number, but don't send a reply.

**Rach, its B :)**

**You looked hot today!**

**Q liked it ;)**

**Make sure you come to the party!**

Right, so those are from Brittany. I save the number and text her a thanks for the compliments, adding that I wasn't sure whether or not I was going to come to the party.

Almost instantaneously I receive two new messages, one from Quinn;

**Do you not want to come because you think it's some kind of trap?**

and one from Brittany.

**Why? Are you busy on friday?**

I reply to Brittany first, telling her that I didn't know, and she sent back a little smiley face saying that she hoped I was going to come.

Then I move on to Quinn's message. I ask her if she can blame me for being suspicious, and she replies that she doesn't, but assures me that she will make sure no-one is rude to me.

Yeah, _that_ makes me feel safe. My main tormentor is going to 'protect' me from all of my other tormentors.

* * *

"I don't think it could hurt." Tina tells me, before taking a sip of her coffee.

Tina, though she appears to be extremely introverted at school, gives out great advice, and this isn't the first time I have turned to her and listened to her voice of reason. We decided to meet at the Lima Bean cafe to grab a coffee so that I could tell her about all that had been going on in my life recently.

She had, of course, already heard about my break up with Finn, and was- like Kurt- proud of how I was coping with the loss of the guy I had spent so long pining after.

(She added that she was glad that she could finally point out all of his flaws to me)

She complimented me on my outfit-which was made up of some of the purchases Kurt and I had bought on our mini, celebratory shopping spree- and we bought our drinks, opting for a small booth near the back of the cafe so as to have more privacy whilst we talked.

She was unperturbed by my admission that I had woken up in bed with Quinn the morning after the party, and her gaze was completely lacking in judgement as I explained to her what had happened in the changing rooms.

This is one of the things I liked most about Tina; she was a great listener. I could go on and on about anything, and she would take it all in, process it, and tell me exactly what she thought. She didn't filter herself for me, her responses were honest and genuine and got straight to the point.

"Anyway," She continued, seeing that I wasn't going to respond. "Mike's been invited, since he's on the football team, and he's bringing me, so I'll be there too." She reached over the table and squeezed my hand softly before retracting and leaning against the back of her seat. "I think you should come."

"Okay." I reply, smiling gently at her. "Okay, anyway, you need to tell me about you. What's going on in the world of Tina?"

* * *

I told him that I didn't have anything to wear as a last, panicked, resort.

"Shut up and let me work my magic on you." He had replied, dragging me to the bed and forcing me to sit down.

It took him a while to find an outfit that he deemed 'popular-people-party' worthy.

He finally settled on a short (mid-thigh length) black dress, with a low neckline that showed off a generous amount of cleavage, and a cutaway at the back, revealing the bottom part of my spine. He paired this with some nude pumps and a few bracelets.

My phone buzzed beside me on the bed.

**Berry, we're gonna pick you up. Be ready at 10. Party's at half past. **

It was Santana. Even though she tended to keep them brief, I had find that her texts were surprising lacking in the nauseating 'text speak' that many people seemed to use, and I found myself pleasantly surprised. I text her a short message telling her that I would be ready in time, and turn my phone off, looking up at the boy watching the movie with me.

"Kurt." I called to the boy on the sofa opposite me. "How long will it take for me to get changed?"

The answer was 'a long time'.

I was only just ready five minutes before the bell to my door rang. Kurt gave me a quick thumbs up as we headed downstairs together.

Opening the door, I was met with Quinn. She stood tall and pretty in a white dress with a fitted bodice and a loose skirt that fell to just above her knees. She's wrapped in a soft brown jacket, and her hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders.

"Hi." She breathes, smiling shyly at me.

"Hello Quinn."

I breathe out deeply and shut the door behind me.

Right.

Here we go then.

* * *

**Double figure follows? You guys... *blushes***

**shaky22: I know, that's something that has always bugged me about glee, the relationships always seem disjointed. This is something that I've been wanting to explore, so expect to see some rachel/everyone interactions as the story progresses. It seems as though everyone has backstabbed Rachel at some point in the show... :/**

**Also thanks to Shellmar and gllover22- I'm glad you like the story :3**

**I haven't decided how quickly I want this story to go, so we'll play it by ear. None of this has been pre-written, which is why I take so long to update. Also, exams.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee. If I did, I would have more money (I'm poor).**

**Inspiration struck and I wrote something. Quickly :O we must be in some kind of AU... as always, reviews keep me motivated and help me improve. Thanks for reading :)**


	4. Chapter 4

It really is excruciatingly loud in here.

The house is also jam packed (to the point of it being near impossible to move without kicking or hitting somebody) and I'm sure that I- being of the petite build that I am- would have been carried away in the BO drenched crowds were it not for my hand being tightly encased in that of Quinn's as she forced her way through the throngs of people, withering anyone who dared move too slowly with her icy glare.

We advance slowly through the room and out again, towards a door set in the furthest wall of the hallway behind it.

I feel myself tense involuntarily at the implications of her dragging me into the basement; perhaps this is where she will humiliate me. Maybe she'll lock me in and-

"Rachel." She calls out softly, squeezing my hand to gain my attention. "Relax. Most of the others from glee club are downstairs, so I was going to go there. It's less crowded." She clarifies, and I nod, but gently remove my hand from hers so that I am free to make a break for it should push come to shove. She frowns momentarily at the loss of contact, but the look is gone almost immediately, replaced by her cool mask of indifference.

Together- well, it's more single file really, as the stairway down into the basement is too narrow to allow two people to walk side by side- we descend into the significantly less populated substructure, and Quinn softly closes the door behind us.

The basement certainly appears to be a more appealing place for us to hang out, as it were; there can't be more than ten other people (who all seem to be a part of the glee club) down here, spread out across the two, spacious sofas, the floor, and some bean bags that are laying around.

I am so absorbed in taking count of my surroundings, that I don't notice that I have already reached the bottom of the steps, and so I find myself tripping over nothing, and falling in what I am sure is- from the perspectives of the others in the room- a hilariously embarrassing manner. Instinctively, I raise my arms up to protect my face upon the inevitable eventuality of me hitting the floor, but before a collision can take place, a pair of thin (but deceptively strong) arms wrap around my middle, pulling me out of my downwards momentum and back into a warm body.

(I try to ignore how safe I feel in her arms)

"Careful, Rach." A husky voice mutters in my ear teasingly.

(The arm is still wrapped around my middle)

I smile timidly, knowing that my face is probably bright red from my earlier actions, and look back up at the room in front of me. Quinn must notice the exact moment I spot Finn, as she steps out from behind me, retracting her arm from my waist, and carefully takes my hand, as if expecting me to pull away again, as I had earlier.

(I don't)

"Don't worry about him." She says under her breath, so that only I can hear her. "I won't let him do anything to you."

It shouldn't make me feel safe.

It really shouldn't, but, here in this crowded house full of drunk teenagers and loud music, Quinn has held my hand, and guided me through rowdy crowds, and stopped me from falling down, and it does.

So I let her pull me further into the room, into the sight of the other teenagers.

"Jew babe!" Noah slurs, stumbling as he stands up from his previously slouched position on one of the sofas, and lumbers over towards Quinn and I. Aforementioned blonde squeezes my hand encouragingly again, before letting go and striding over to the drinks table, pulling out two cups.

My attention is pulled away from her when two large arms wrap around me, lifting me off of the ground and spinning me in a lopsided circle of sorts. I squeal in surprise at the sudden embrace, and, when I am set back on my feet, I stumble slightly, set off balance by the sudden embrace.

"You look hot, princess." The mohawked boy states with a wink- an attempt at flirting I suppose, though it is slightly flawed by the fact that he is swaying unsteadily on his feet, looking as though he will topple over any second.

"Thank you, Noah-"

"Rachel?" Finn questions, cutting me off.

Oh, I had completely forgotten about him.

_(how could I have forgotten about Finn?)_

Finn. My ex-boyfriend of a week. Finn, whose contact I had been refusing since our (less than amicable) break-up. Finn, who obviously would have been coming to his best friend's party.

"Rachel, you're so _beautiful_."

Finn, who was evidently extremely intoxicated as he gathered me up in his arms and squeezed, pressing me against his chest uncomfortably.

A throat was cleared behind us.

"Let her go Finn." A cold, steely voice enunciated, the words dripping with distaste.

It has immediate effect; the large arms instantly become lax around my waist, slowly dropping from me, as their owner takes a step back, gulping slightly in an alcohol induced state of fear.

(I suppose being friendly with the ice queen may have _some_ benefits)

The blonde girl steps up beside me, passing me one of the cups in her hands and levelling Finn with an icy glare.

He steps further back, wincing at the malice in her gaze, shrinking in on himself, trying to escape her wrath.

"She broke up with you." At this, she pivots slightly on one foot, raising an eyebrow questioningly at me, before continuing, her eyes fixed on me. "She wants _nothing_ more to do with you, _Finncompetent_, so pick your manboobs up off of the floor, and waddle away." Her voice is monotonous, and she speaks in a way that suggests boredom, like Finn is a child whose behaviour is repetitive and tiresome.

As though she was a teacher, and he was a boy, and all he wanted was to play with me, the toy.

As if, no matter how many times she removed the toy from his grasp, he would grapple with her, try to get it back, when all he'd do would be to damage it, and hurt himself and her. Hurt me. The cycle would repeat, until the toy was too broken, and he would move on.

And so the teacher would be left with the broken toy, and gone would be the boy.

I suppose that's what I am, huh? A broken toy. One that Finn and Jesse and Puck have played with and discarded. One that everyone has used for their own benefit, giving nothing back in return.

It's a bit of a melancholic existence, I must say.

I feel warm fingers wrap around my arm, and squeeze gently, an action that jolts me away from my train of thought, abandoning me back in the present.

"Are you alright?" Quinn murmurs, carefully removing her hand from my arm, and I have to suppress the sudden shiver that threatens to surge through me at the withdrawal of heat. I nod sharply, trying to dismiss the odd feelings that spring to life from her pseudo concern for my feelings.

Oh well, at least I won't have to deal with Finn anymore tonight.

I raise the cup that Quinn had passed me earlier up to my lips, and take a small sip, allowing the fruity liquid to circulate slightly within my mouth before allowing myself to drink it. I am surprised by the fact that it barely tastes of anything other than lemonade.

I lower the cup from my mouth, and tilt my head, examining the drink, before turning my head slightly towards Quinn, ready to ask her about the content of it.

She, naturally, is one step ahead of me.

"It's a Lemon wine cooler. It's barely 4%, so dont worry about getting drunk." The blonde states, emphasising her point by drinking from her own cup.

"Have you got the same as me?" I ask, tentatively, wanting to prolong the conversation slightly, for reasons that I don't want to question.

"No, I'm just having plain soda." She replies, smiling bitterly at me. "I don't trust Puck." She adds as an explanation.

I sigh, nodding my head. I suppose- had something like that happened to _me_- I would also be reluctant to drink in _certain people's_ presence.

"I won't let him do anything to you." I state softly, hoping to alleviate some of the tension in here, since she is clearly uncomfortable at this party.

Which begs the question as to why she came here in the first place.

Her eyes lose some of the hard edge (which had settled in their depths after reminiscing over the events of last year) and she looks down at me, searching my eyes with her own.

"Why would you do that for me?" She asks, her hazel eyes flashing with confusion, and some other emotion- one which I can't quite name.

I shrug my shoulders, moving forwards to claim a seat on the sofa.

Quinn, apparently, doesn't accept that as a valid answer, as she follows me, sits herself beside me and, turning to look at me, raises an eyebrow at me questioningly.

How am I supposed to explain this to her when even _I_ don't understand it?

I decide to take the easy way out; I lie.

"Because you dealt with Finn."

Surely I must imagine the disappointment that flashes across her face.

"Okay."

I don't think she believes me.

* * *

I stumble as we cross the threshold into her bedroom; my feet are uncoordinated and don't seem to respond properly to the instructions I send them. Quinn grunts slightly as my weight pushes against her.

I drank a _bit_ too much.

In my defense, the drinks tasted _really_ good, and Noah kept on supplying them, so I didn't even need to leave my position on the sofa. I hadn't realised- until it was already far too late- just how drunk I was becoming.

When Quinn prompted me to leave, I panicked slightly.

(only slightly)

I knew that if I were to return home like this, my parents would immediately know that I had been drinking, and I would be punished.

Therefore I begged Quinn to take me home with her. I was very persistent.

Which is how we ended up at her house, with me- leaning practically the majority of my weight against her lithe, athletic frame- and her struggling to keep both of us upright as we made our way through the darkened rooms.

When we reach her bed, I collapse on it, not even bothering to remove my (highly uncomfortable) shoes.

Quinn chuckles at my drunken antics, flicking on the bedside lamp and moving over to her drawers to get out some sleepwear.

"Do you want some pajamas?" She asks quietly, sifting through the clothes in her wardrobe.

"No." I grunt into the pillow. "M'comfy."

She laughs at me, moving back to the bed and perching herself on the edge, by my feet.

I fall asleep to the feeling of her removing my shoes.

Or at least, I _try_ to.

"_Rachel."_

Quinn's voice pulls me back from unconsciousness, and I frown at her when I realise that it is still dark outside.

Quinn has changed out of her party clothes into a vest and some shorts, and I see the dress that she was wearing earlier is neatly folded on a chair by the door, perhaps awaiting it's imminent journey into the wash.

"Two things," She continues, smiling at me in amusement. "One- do you want to text your fathers, or should I? And two, you need to drink some water before you go to sleep, sorry."

She doesn't _look_ sorry.

"Do you have some pajamas for me?" I ask, changing the subject.

She reaches past me to grab something from the bedside table, and I realise, when she places them on my lap, that they are of a similar sort to the clothes that she herself is wearing.

"Thanks." I reply, moving to get up off of the bed. "Can you text my dad's, and I'll get changed?"

"Of course, just don't forget to-" She cuts herself off abruptly when I pull my dress off and slip into the pajamas.

When I turn back towards her, she is lying in bed, looking anywhere but me, and her ears and cheeks are stained with a deep red blush.

I sidle into bed next to her, and she turns off the light, settling back against the pillows.

"Thanks for taking care of me." I mumble, settling my head against her shoulder in my sleepy haze.

"Always, Rach." She replies, gently pressing her lips to my hair.

Slowly, I let the room fade to darkness, and I fall asleep.

* * *

**I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry (8)**

**I didn't mean to take so long, I just got caught up in all of my exams (which are over (_finally_)) but I got this one out for you so yay!**

**Big thanks to Mo and Luis who looked over this for me :3**

**Enjoy x**


	5. Chapter 5

I felt a sharp pounding in my head.

I groaned, rolling over and burrowing into the softness that was already surrounding me.

Then I heard a soft, melodious chuckle, and frowned into the pillow.

"Go 'way." I mumbled, refusing to get up from my comfortable sprawl across the bed. The side of the bed dipped slightly as she settled on the edge of it. As she leant towards me, a shadow grew over my head, which helped to ease my headache, if only by a little.

I grunted in discomfort as she poked me in the side, squirming away from the assault.

"C'mon Rach, time to get up."

"Mmmfph."

"Rachel." She drew the vowels out, and I could hear the grin in her voice.

Damn Quinn.

Stupid Quinn, with no hangover, and her stupid blonde hair, and her perfect, normal little nose, and-

"Oi!" I squeaked.

Slowly, I raised one hand towards her, and then I flicked her in the waist.

It was her time to jump at the unexpected assault, and I grinned, my face still hidden from her sight.

"Do that one more time and you'll regret it." She growled playfully.

Obviously I took the bait.

Giggling to myself, I reach out to poke her again, but she grabs my hand and tickles me instead.

My giggling becomes full blown laughter as I squirm, trying to push her hands away from me.

"St-stop!"

She laughs and retreats, lifting a previously unseen mug to her lips to hide her smirk.

"Now that you're up-" She begins. "-you can tell me, what do vegans eat for breakfast?"

A genuine smile breaks out across my face as I recline against the headrest of the bed.

"Well, first of all, I'm going to need some coffee, and maybe an aspirin or two."

She laughs, reaching behind her to grab some pills and a water bottle, handing them over for me to take.

"Okay, part one is done, for the coffee though you're going to have to come downstairs."

Ugh.

* * *

Quinn lends me some shorts and a shirt to wear home, which I promise to wash and return promptly, but she waves me off, telling me that there was no rush.

The effects of the hangover have (for the most part) disappeared by the time I arrive home, and I find myself smiling at the oddly enjoyable morning I have had. Quinn had done exactly as she had promised that she would; she had looked after me all through the night. Her kindness had even extended to this morning, where she had provided me with painkillers for the headache that she knew I would have, as well as going out of her way to provide me with a vegan breakfast.

_Hell_, she had even driven me home.

I'm still not entirely sure as to where this kindness is stemming from, and I don't know whether or not I should allow myself to enjoy it.

The way I see it, there are two outcomes to this;

One, after the summer, she goes back to the way she was, the way she has always treated me, and it will hurt all the more after I have learned how kind she really is.

Or two, she remains kind to me throughout, and we could become great friends- something that I have always wanted.

It's odd for me to not be able to work out a definitive answer, as I have always prided myself on being able to figure things out. Throughout high school, my ability to protect myself and my emotions has vastly improved, but I find myself stuck in this situation.

Would it hurt more to have her as a friend and lose her than it would to never be her friend at all.

They _do_ say that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

It would be more logical, in a situation such as the one I currently find myself in, to push her away after all she has done to me, but I'm not sure if that is what I_ want_.

After seeing what a good friend she can be with my own eyes, I find myself longing for that sort of affection, that kind of friendship. It is the sort I have never had.

Loyal, unconditional, _protective_.

My 'friends' have always put their own needs before mine.

They would leave me at the drop of a hat if they caught scent of something more popular than me.

Like moths to a flame.

Quinn took me to a party, protected me in front of cheerio's, jocks, and looked after me the morning after.

"So how'd the party go?"

Kurt had been in my room when I returned home.

He raised an eyebrow at my borrowed attire, smirking as though he knew all of the secrets in the world.

(He was probably pretty close, considering how large of a gossip hag he was)

I refrained from responding, settling on my bed while he softly swayed from side to side on the swivel chair by my desk.

"It was better than I thought it would be." I state simply, knowing that the lack of information would be driving him crazy.

Kurt raised one eyebrow, tilting his head to the right thoughtfully as he examined me from afar.

"Rachel." He groaned, drawing out the vowels in much the same way as Quinn had earlier.

Deciding to go about a completely different tact, I lay down on my stomach, feet pressed against the headboard as I rest my chin on the balm of my hand.

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you think is going on with Quinn?" I asked, referring to the blonde's recent (and very abrupt) change in demeanor.

"Maybe she's trying something new." He replied distractedly, looking at the nails on one hand and muttering to himself.

"Do you think it will last?"

At this, he looks up from his nails and focuses on me, his eyes softening slightly.

"I don't know, Rachel." He sighs. "I guess that depends on _why_ she changed in the first place."

"Do you have any theories?"

"A few." He admits, shrugging his shoulders. I gesture for him to explain, _expand_ on this thought, but he shakes his head. "If it's what I _think_ it is, then it needs to come from her, not me."

I widen my eyes at him, but I can tell that he will not explain any further, which is infuriating, to say the least.

"Well, do you think I should try and be her friend, even if she may stab me in the back later on?" I ask, my final question. It's the one that's been leaning the most on my mind, and I hope that Kurt will be able to shed some light on the situation.

"I think it's up to you." He replies carefully. "You have to ask yourself whether you can trust her enough- after your past together- to not hurt you again in the future."

Then his phone goes off, and he stands up abruptly.

"I have to go, Rach." He says, standing up. I roll over and stand up, opening the door for him. "It's okay, I'll see myself out. Just keep me updated on the Quinn thing, okay?"

I smile gently and nod at him, waving my hand at him when he turns around at the bottom of the stairs.

We both say goodbye, and I turn away, shutting the door and leaning my back against it.

Do I trust Quinn?

I think situations like this call for Barbra.

* * *

The sun is nearly setting by the time I reach the lake.

The orange orb is just beginning to dip below the dark green tips of the trees, tinting the clouds red and pink as it falls. The surface of the lake is calm, the greeny blue of the water reflecting a jagged image of the sky.

The pounding of my heart gives me a rhythm to run to, my feet colliding heavily with the harsh tarmac of the footpath as I force my way up the hill.

When I reach the top of the landmass, I cross to the grassy banks, lowering myself onto the soft earth. As I pull my knees to my chest, I watch the sun disappearing behind the tree line, and think about all that has happened since the start of summer, just over a week ago.

It's now sunday, it's been two days since I went to the party, and, despite Kurt's encouragement, I haven't contacted Quinn. This isn't entirely one-sided, I mean, _she_ hasn't contacted me either. If anyone has to bridge the gap it should be her, considering all of the bullying she has inflicted on me.

And why do I even care? Why does this matter to me?

Why does-

"Rachel." A husky, near breathless voice utters, a body settling down on the grass beside me, breathing heavily. "Hey."

"Hi Quinn." I reply, straightening my legs and leaning back on my elbows, which now rested on the ground behind me.

The blonde mirrors my posture, and I tilt my head slightly to look at her. The orange sun reflects off of her alabaster skin, bathing her in a warm glow. Her chest is rising and falling at a slower rate now, as she is relaxing from her run, but a light sheen of sweat sparkles on her forehead. She reaches up a hand to wipe away the excess liquid, and smiles softly, her white teeth just barely visible behind rosy lips.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I breath, turning away from her to watch the sun go down.

I could feel a slight twinge on the side of my face, as though there were eyes on me, slowly, I turned my head back towards Quinn.

Her hazel eyes were fixed on me, focused on my face, I wasn't even sure that she had noticed me turn around.

Is she- why would she be staring at me?

"Quinn?" I venture softly, trying to break her from her trance. "Is there something on my face?"

She clears her throat, turning away from me again, a scarlet flush racing up her cheeks and neck as she averted her eyes from my inquisitive ones.

"Uh, nothing." She mutters, pushing herself back up to her feet. "We should go before it gets too dark." She adds, holding out a hand for me to use as leverage.

I clasp her hand in mine, pulling myself up and dusting off the back of my leggings, stretching a bit before walking back towards the path.

"Are you coming?"

"I, uh, yeah." She replies, her voice catching slightly midway through the sentence but, when I look back questioningly at her, she has composed her face into a soft smile.

Together we run back down the hill, out of the park, and down the lamp-lit streets.

Every now and then I catch her looking at me strangely, but I don't have enough energy or breath to question it, so I just let it be.

She runs beside me until we reach my road, where I slow down, and she mirrors me.

"I'll see you?"

"I guess." I reply, shrugging my shoulders. "This is me." I add, indicating my house as we approach it.

"I know."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

"So, text me when you get home?"

"Okay. Bye, Rach." She smiles slightly lopsidedly at me, before turning and continuing with her run.

* * *

**WOAHMYGOD I wrote you another one?!**

**Just for you 3 **

**Special thanks to Luis and Mo for proofreading**

**Enjoy xx**


	6. Chapter 6

"Just a minute!"

I called out, practically bouncing down the stairs in my rush to get to the door in time.

I had been in the middle of getting changed when the guest had knocked on the door the first time, so it had taken me longer that it usually would to answer, and I didn't want them to leave just in case it was something important.

Thanks to my daily workouts on the elliptical, I was barely winded by the time I reached the entrance to the house, and I swung it open to reveal Finn.

"Hi." I breathed, shocked at his sudden appearance, since we had barely spoken two words to each other since I had broken up with him nearly two weeks prior.

"Hey Rach." He smiled at me slightly, though it looked slightly forced, as he replied.

I try to ignore the twinge in my stomach at hearing that nickname; that's what _Quinn_ calls me.

"What can I do for you?"

"Can I come in?"

"I would prefer it if you would just say what you want to say." I reply resolutely, moving to lean against the doorway while leaving the door slightly ajar behind me.

"I, uh, okay." He stutters, perhaps expecting me to be more cordial with him. "It's, Rachel, I know that we were both drunk when we broke up, so I came here to say that it's okay. I know it was spur of the moment. We can get back together now." He states, a small, self-satisfied sort of smile blossoming across his face as he finishes, as though pleased that he had figured it out himself.

As though I _wanted_ to get back together with him.

That self-centred piece of-

"Rachel?" He prompted, his brow furrowing slightly as he leant down a little to meet my eyes.

"I don't want that." I offer quietly.

He frowns.

"What do you mean?"

"I-"

"I know it took me a while to work it out, but I'm _here_, Rachel."

"I don't want to get back together with you, Finn." I reply tersely. "We may have been slightly intoxicated when we split up initially, but I gave it some thought and I, well, _we_ just don't work, Finn. I don't want to force a relationship that isn't there."

The tips of his ears were turning red as his face contorted in an odd mix of anger and confusion, as though he couldn't understand why something like this was happening, and this irritated him.

"What do you mean you don't _want_ me?" He growled, and I took an instinctive step back, this version of his personality scaring me slightly. "You've _always_ wanted me. You _need_ me, I'm the Quarterback, without _me_, you'll go back to being the unpopular little girl with an ugly nose and a mother who chose _someone else's_ baby over _her_."

Through the blur of tears that had collected in my eyes, I noticed a flash of blonde appear before me, the harsh sound of a hand connecting with a cheek, and an outraged and pained gasp.

"Get out of here, _Frankenteen_, or I will get Santana to fry you and every single_ ounce_ of fat on that disgustingly spherical body of yours."

His eyes flickered fearfully between the blonde and I before he turned tail and fled, but his words were still burned deep into my brain.

How could he _say _that.

I know that he isn't the perfect human being- I've always known that, even through my intense longing for him- but I never expected that he could be so spiteful.

I never expected my first love to tear me up like that.

I felt a pair of arms snake around my waist, and I collapsed into the warmth, sobbing softly into the crook of her neck. The arms squeezed me comfortingly, and she gently leads me back into the house, shutting the door with her foot, my body still locked against hers.

"Quinn." I mumble into the collar of her shirt.

It was like a prayer.

Quinn, who had come to my rescue when I needed her most. Quinn, who was currently acting as my anchor as I cried uncontrollably in her arms.

The blonde led me up the stairs to my room, and I tumble into the bedding, dragging her willing body with me, _needing_ her comforting warmth against me.

I curl into her, and her arm falls behind me, plating with the ends of my hair, fingers occasionally drawing lines and small patterns across my back as her shirt soaks up my tears.

"He was wrong, Rach." She mumbles, the words loud in the silence of the room. "You're wonderful, and _beautiful_, and anyone who can't see that isn't worth your time anyway."

It's then that I realise what had just happened.

This isn't why Quinn came here, she didn't appear to defend me and hold onto me while I cry irrationally.

"I'm so-" I begin, attempting to apologise, but she cuts me off.

"Don't say you're sorry." She intones softly.

"But I-" I try again.

"It's fine."

We lapse into silence.

Slowly, I raise my head off of Quinn's collarbone- where it had drifted during our impromptu cuddling session- and make eye contact with the blonde cheerleader.

"Thank you." I say, before laughing bitterly at myself and swiping at the the tear tracks that had appeared on my cheeks. Pushing myself up and off of the blonde, I turn to lean against the headboard of the bed, sitting up, and she mirrors my actions. "I bet this wasn't what you were expecting when you came over, huh?"

She smiles softly at me.

"Everything is always more dramatic with you anyway." She teases, making me smile. "I came over to give you back your dress from the party, you left it at my house."

"Of course, but you didn't have to, I could have come and collected it for you."

"Yeah, but I wanted to try out my new car." She replies, smirking at me playfully. "Speaking of my car, the dress is still in it." I raise an eyebrow at her, and she blushes a little, tilting her head in embarrassment. "I kind of rushed out when I saw Finn, and forgot it."

I giggle.

"Don't laugh at me." She retorts in mock outrage, nudging me with her elbow.

I nudge her back, and she raises one of her brows at me incredulously, _mocking _me.

"Are you _sure_, you want to do this, Rachel." She asks, eyes narrowed menacingly at me. "You _do_ remember what happened last time we got into this, right."

I squeal, swiftly poking her in the side before jumping up and running out of the door, leaving a shocked and grinning Quinn in my wake.

* * *

We ended up spending the day inside, watching films together and just lazing around. As QUinn is leaving to go home for the night, she hugs me, and makes me promise to call her if Finn showed up again, or if I needed someone to talk to.

"Rachel, we're going to be in Europe for the next month or so." Dad says, taking a sip of his 'essential' morning coffee while papa flattens his newspaper on the table.

They say it so trivially, as though it doesn't matter.

As though they aren't abandoning me in favour of their business.

Although, I suppose that this isn't the first time it's happened, maybe it _is_ an everyday kind of thing for them.

"We don't want you to be alone," He begins, and I scoff. '_Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to swan off to another continent._' I think bitterly. "So we're willing to buy you the puppy you've been asking for." He finishes, before deciding to tack on an afternote. "Provided you are going to look after it, of course."

"When can I get one?" I question sharply, irritated by his inherent need to patronise me.

He sighs, relenting immediately.

"By the end of the week, I should think."

"Well can I start looking _now_?" I ask impatiently.

"Watch your tone, young-" Dad begins, his nose scrunched up in an unflattering way.

"Leroy." Papa warns, and dad deflates, sitting further back in his chair and gesticulating in an indifferent way. "You may if you wish, Rachel, but we will need to see it before you put your name down."

I laugh disbelievingly at his words.

'_Put your name down_'? What does he even think this is?

"Yeah, thanks." I mutter, standing up abruptly from the table and pivoting on my heel, stalking off in the direction of my bedroom.

Thanks for nothing.

* * *

"Oo, that one is _adorable_." Kurt squeals excitably, reaching a hand down to ruffle the fur atop the puppy's head, grinning when it nuzzles into his palm.

Upon being told that I could- at last- get a puppy of my very own, I had called Kurt, whom I had been scheming with for years of what type of dog we would get and what we would do with it.

I had had to hold the phone away from my ear to prevent him damaging it with his high pitched, well, 'noise'.

He had immediately- after hanging up with me and _promising_ that he would find me the cutest dogs possible, called Blaine, whose mother was a breeder, and gushed.

He had driven over to my place in his car, dragged me out of the house, and sung happily all the way to the 'puppy house', as he had taken to calling it.

"Yes, Kurt, we've worked out that they are _all_ adorable, which makes this very difficult for me, seeing as I can only have-" I cut myself off as I felt a warm weight settle on my foot, and I look down to see a little border collie puppy lying across one of my feet.

I smile, crouching down to stroke it, and it rolls onto its back, mewling softly, and waving on of it's front paws in the air, scratching something unseen

"Hello little fella." I mumble under my breath, moving a hand up to his ears, and scratching the back of them.

His face is almost entirely white, apart from a small patch over the front of his muzzle. One of his ears is black, while the other is a mixture of black and white.

I must have stopped stroking him when I began to admire his fur, because he rolls back over, blue eyes fixed intently on me as he pushes his head into my hand.

"He seems quite taken with you." Says a soft, feminine voice above me.

I look up to see the kind brown eyes of Blaine's mother, and I smile at her, continuing my ministrations on the little ball of fur.

"He's adorable." I muse, tapping him on the nose. He raises both of his front paws in retaliation, covering his nose and I giggle. "Is he available for...?" I trail off, looking up at her hopefully.

"Well, I would have to speak with your parents first, but if that goes well, he could be yours by the end of the week, maybe even earlier, if I get through the paperwork quickly." She replies, grinning conspiratorially to me.

"Oh that's, well that's wonderful, Mrs. Anderson!" I exclaim, a large smile now adorning my face.

"Call me Julie, please."

"Of course. Will it, I mean, does it usually happen so fast?" I question.

"Well, since you and my Blaine are good friends, I bumped it up on my priorities." She replies, smiling. "But don't tell anyone about that!" She warns, teasingly, before turning and heading back into a small office that branches off of the large room.

"You're going to be coming home with me." I say encouragingly to the puppy, picking him up and placing him in my lap.

Behind me I hear Kurt squeal again.

"Oh my _god_, Rachel! I'm dying a cute, fluffy _death_ over here!"

* * *

**What should I call the puppy?**

**I know, I know, _another_ late late update, and I'm sorry! I got caught up binge watching teen wolf, and couldnt figure out what to write.**

**I have good news and bad news... **

**Good news: I know quite a lot of what I want to happen so writers block 'should' be less bad from now on (fingers crossed)**

**Bad news: starting from the 25th, I'm going on holiday for two weeks, so there will be NO UPDATES for that period of time. I will try to do as much as I can before then though!**

**As always, enjoy! **


	7. Chapter 7

I heard a small whining coming from off the side of my bed and groan, burying my face into the soft pillow.

Then I hear the scraping of nails on the wood of my bed, and sigh, pulling myself over to the edge of the mattress and dangling my head over the squirming ball of fur on the carpet below. At the sight of me, the puppy's tail starts wagging frantically, and the movement quickly spreads through it's entire body, as though it can't stop, and he starts bouncing up and down in an attempt to reach me.

"Hey there little guy." I coo, smiling at the wriggling puppy before picking him up and placing him on my lap as I sit back against the headboard. Immediately he jumps up, putting his paws on my collarbone and licks my chin.

I giggle, reaching up a hand to scratch him behind the ears while using the other to wipe the sleep out of my eyes. I glance over at the clock on my bedside table, and grumble slightly to myself when I realise just how early it is.

_4:17 am_

The green numbers blink continuously, mocking me.

_Taunting_ my sleep deprived mind.

"I'm going to have to teach you the proper time to wake up, Zieg." I say reproachfully, tapping the puppy lightly on the nose.

It is now Monday.

Since getting him early on Friday, he had woken me consistently at around four in the morning, through methods including howling at my door to be let in, whining from my bedside, and attacking the furniture.

It's definitely irritating, but I can't find it in myself to reprimand him, and the one time I tried, he managed to weasel his way out of it- he has the puppy dog eye routine down to perfection.

(I suppose that's to be expected, considering he is in fact a puppy, an adorable one at that. Also, I've never been particularly good at telling people off, unless it was for a lack in musical prowess, so maybe _that's_ the problem.)

Anyway, Ziegfield (named after one of the characters in my favourite film/musical ever, _Funny Girl_, which my idol, the one and only Barbra Streisand, stars in) is in desperate need of some obedience and behavioral training.

For now though, he's seems to be content to just curl up on my bed and go to sleep.

I use the silence to think about my current predicament.

Quinn and I have barely spoken at all since she had comforted me in the aftermath of Finn's anger at being rejected. This was mainly- well actually _entirely_- my fault.

I'm embarrassed about the way I acted after Finn had made those comments, after he had insulted me. I keep telling myself that I shouldn't have cried, that I should have stayed strong, that it shouldn't have affected me as much as it did.

I don't love Finn- in fact, I'm not sure if I ever did, so I can't use the excuse that _of course_ it would hurt because he was my first love, and all that jazz.

I hate that I made myself look so weak to Quinn.

I hate being vulnerable, it's something that I have always needed to avoid, because vulnerability is a weakness, and I already have enough of those. I didn't need another thing to be exploited by conniving cheerleaders and spiteful jocks.

I'm also worried about how dependent I seem to be getting on the blonde.

I mean, she has only just begun, within the past few weeks, to be friendly towards me. It's wrong for me to get so quickly attached, but that is one of my vices, one that I am not so good at avoiding, and I can't help it.

Quinn has been so _nice_ to me, so protective. I've begun to feel safe around her, and I can't let that happen, because it will result in me letting my guard down, and this could all still be a trick.

After all, she hasn't ever been nice to me during school, what's to say that this 'friendship' of sorts that we have been building isn't some part of an elaborate scheme to hurt me once school starts up again this fall.

This is why I have been avoiding her.

I haven't made it _too_ obvious; I still return her calls and texts promptly, albeit with a sometimes harsh briefness, but I just avoid any topics that may lead to us meeting up.

I can't let this friendship grow, just in case it may wither away, it's remains forever festering in the back of my mind, a mass of coal which will forever stain and darken my memories and my future.

It all sounds a bit morbid, but there it is.

I mean, disappointment seems to be an integral part of my life, so I have had to take to preparing myself for it as opposed to living la vie en rose (through rose tinted glasses), as I have in the past.

High school has certainly mutated my outward views, hasn't it.

Zieg mewls slightly, searching for my attention, which brings me out of my self-depreciative haze. The puppy nudges his head under my limp hand, which has been resting in my lap, and nuzzles against it. I quickly oblige, rubbing the top of his head with my palm, and he responds by closing his eyes and tilting his head back appreciatively.

I sigh.

Life must surely be easier for him than me, he doesn't have to deal with angry ex-boyfriends and confusing blonde cheerleaders.

Oh, to be a dog, and to not have a care in the world.

* * *

An hour later, I still hadn't fallen asleep, so I decided to just get up anyway and start my morning routine.

This consisted of; brushing my teeth, working out on the elliptical, having a shower, drinking some coffee, and eating my breakfast.

During the summer months, I usually forego the workout on the elliptical in favour of taking a run in the park, but I can't bring Ziegfield outside with me yet, and I'm not sure that I trust him enough to be home alone yet, so I'm confined to the exercise machine for the time being.

Ziegfield, however, doesn't seem to appreciate the sacrifices I am making for him by using the exercise machine instead of abandoning him in the house, _alone_, for an hour or so. He is currently barking, if you can even call it that (it's more of a high pitched yapping, I would say), at the machine as I run.

"_Shush_, Zieg." I reprimand, taking one of my hands off of the handle and pointing at him, my eyes narrowed.

The puppy in question sits down on the bed and stares at me with wide eyes, whimpering slightly.

Oh, that is _so_ not fair.

"Stop it."

This doesn't help.

Ziegfield lowers himself down to a lying down position at the end of the bed and rests his head on his paws, his eyes still pleading with me.

"You're such an-" I search my head for words I can use to describe him, but nothing adequate comes to mind. "Ugh." I exclaim, throwing my hands up in exasperation and getting off of the bike.

At least I had half an hour, I suppose.

Maybe I should get Kurt to babysit (perhaps it would be more apt to call it 'puppysit') Zieg when I go on my morning runs, or at least for a couple of them. I'm sure he wouldn't mind; he adores the fluffy little rascal.

The sound of the doorbell resonates through the virtually empty house, and I am jolted out of my thoughts, back into the present.

I quickly rush down the stairs to the door, only remembering when it is already too late that I am dressed in just a sports bra and some running shorts.

The doorbell goes off again, and I decide to answer it regardless (hopefully nothing _too_ embarrassing will come of my clothing- or lack thereof).

"Rachel, I- Oh God, _where are all of your clothes?_" I chuckle at her as her entire face flushes scarlet, and her voice jumps to almost an octave above it's normal, husky, range.

"Come on in." Is my response, punctuated by more giggling on my part, and some embarrassed grumbling from Quinn.

I hear a soft thud from my bedroom upstairs just after I close the door behind Quinn. Grinning to myself, I turn to watch as Ziegfield scrambles into view at the top of the staircase. He pauses at the top, standing still for a moment. His entire body is shaking as he pants, and his little pink tongue is just barely visible out of the side of his mouth.

"C'mere Zieg." I say encouragingly, which causes him to spring back into action, and he clambers down the staircase- quite a feat, considering his minute size- crashing into my ankles when he finally reaches me.

I release another amused chuckle, before bending down to pick up the puppy, and cradling him in my arms.

"Quinn, this is-" I break off mid sentence when I see that Quinn has backed away down the hall, away from Ziegfield and I, and has both hands clenched by her sides. "What are you doing? What's wrong?"

"I- uh, this is going to sound kind of _lame_, but, I- um, well I really don't like _dogs_."

"What do you mean you don't like dogs?" I exclaim, astonished. "They're wonderful." I add in earnest, shifting the furry bundle around in my arms, to which he mews appreciatively.

"It's-" She begins, before stopping and running a hand through her fringe. She wrinkles her nose, watching Ziegfield warily. "They _scare_ me, alright?"

I laugh at the fact that big- well, not really _big_, but you know what I mean- scary, head-bitch-in-charge Quinn could be afraid of something as docile as Zieg.

"Don't laugh." Quinn says sullenly.

I quickly put on a straight face.

"Give me your hand."

"What?" She look, and sounds, shocked at the sudden change of subject.

"Your hand." I repeat, holding out my left hand for hers. Cautiously, the blonde extends her hand towards me, before retracting it at the last second.

"Wait." I sigh at her. "I just- what are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to show you that little ole Zieg here is nothing to be afraid of, Quinn."

"The mutt better not bite me."

"Don't call him a mutt." I scold.

"Fine." I raise an eyebrow at her, mimicking her signature look. "Sorry." I nod, satisfied- for now- by her (albeit less than sincere) apology.

"_Now_, give me your hand, Quinn." She complies, and I slowly raise our joint hands towards Ziegfield's face, allowing him sniff them carefully.

The puppy yips happily, licking the blonde cheerleaders hand, and Quinn giggles at the sensation. She gingerly removes her hand from mine, scratching him gently behind the ears, and I watch as a small smile spreads across her face, noticing the small twinkling in her hazel eyes.

"See." I prompt after a minute or so of petting. "He's adorable." Quinn shrugs noncommittally, gaze still fixed on the content puppy in my arms, and I narrow my eyes at her. "Admit it."

Quinn finally raises her eyes from Ziegfield, meeting my gaze levelly.

"I'll admit to _that_, when you admit that you've been avoiding me."

* * *

**Soooooooooooooooo... I _swear_ that the break wasn't meant to be this long, but I had the two week holiday with virtually no wifi, then google drive broke (which is where I keep my writings) and it was my bday on tuesday, so I got drunk, and then I was _really_ hungover wednesday, so I typed like Bruce in bruce almighty when he was answering those emails and got this.**

**Unbetad, for speed purposes, but should be done by the end of the week :)**

**BIG NOTICE FOR REVIEWERS: Please make your PM thing active, because I send you thank yous for/responses to your reviews through that.**

**Again, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy.**

**SB xx**


End file.
